


Companion to a Dragon

by Willidan



Category: Sherlock (TV), Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragon Lestrade, Dragon Mycroft, Dragon Sherlock, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willidan/pseuds/Willidan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock never wanted a companion, John wants nothing more to do with dragons.  It's a perfect arrangement.  Cross over with Naomi Novik's Temeraire series.  Foreknowledge of the Temeraire verse is helpful, but hopefully not necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Companion to a Dragon

John stared down at the phone in his hand, recognizing the number on the screen despite the lack of a name on the caller ID, and reluctant to acknowledge how desperately he wanted to answer the call. That part of his life was over. He was useless as a surgeon now. They shouldn’t have his new number. And yet there was the number of the surgery on the screen. John’s finger hovered over the answer button only a heartbeat before he answered.

****

“Why did you call me?” John asked, well aware of the petulant tone in his voice. “I’m not a surgeon any longer. And how did you get my number anyway?”

Stamford grinned at him, though it was more of a grimace. “You’ll have to ask him. I’m only the relay person.” Stamford paused at the door. “I am sorry, John. I know you’ve given all this up.”

John could only nod and waited for Stamford to go through the doorway. Stamford stood back and waited for John to join him before leading him into the large room on the other side. Stamford stood back, waiting expectantly for John to be noticed.

“It’s about time. I gave you his information hours ago.”

John didn’t quite jump when the deep voice rumbled through the room, though he did take a hesitant step back as the large dragon sitting in the shadows stood and ducked his head to peer intently at John. 

“Dr. John Watson, lately of Her Majesties Dragon Corps, invalided out after he was injured when the dragon he was serving with was killed in Afghanistan.”

“Sorry, what is this all about?”

Instead of answering, the dragon turned his attention back to the shadows where he had been working on something John couldn’t see.

“He’ll do, I suppose.”

John sighed, more than a bit exasperated. “I’ll do for what?”

“Aha! That’s it exactly!” The dragon exclaimed and set up excitedly, leaping to the landing platform on the opposite wall. 

John stepped forward. “Hold on! What is this all about?”

The dragon looked down at him, a hint of irritation in his expression. “I find myself in need of a companion and you’ll do. The name’s Sherlock. You can meet me at the Baker Street Covert. Ask for Mrs. Hudson.” And with that, Sherlock leapt into the skies and disappeared in a handful of wingbeats.

John scowled and turned back to Stamford.

“Sorry, John,” Stamford began, spreading his hands helplessly in front of him. “I tried to talk him round, asked him to consider any of the young hopefuls in the ranks, but he was adamant.”

“I’m not a handler. Never trained for it, had no desire to become a companion,” John protested. “What makes him think I’ll just do as he says?”

Stamford shrugged and gave John a weak grin. “He’s Sherlock.”

“And why doesn’t he have a companion already? He’s far too old to be without one.”

Stamford sighed and gestured John to follow him out of the dragon research lab and into the human corridor. “It’s a rather long story, actually. How about a cuppa while I tell you what I can.”

****

For the second time in as many days, John found himself wondering why he was going along with this. The phone call and meeting had been bad enough, but now John was standing outside the Baker Street Covert waiting for Mrs. Hudson to come and lead him through to Sherlock’s quarters. He wasn’t any good to dragons anymore. He had only ever wanted to be a surgeon and now that was impossible. He never wanted to tie himself down to any one dragon when all dragons were so fascinating. John Watson wasn’t a companion. He didn’t want to be a companion. But now he waited for what he presumed would be another disconcerting interview with Sherlock, the English Celestial who had demanded John’s presence at his covert.

John shook himself from his thoughts when an elderly woman arrived with a warm smile.

“You must be John, then. Sherlock said you’d be by.” She held the door open for him and waited until he had passed through before closing it behind them. “I’m Mrs. Hudson and I help take care of things around here, though I’ve several dragons and their crews to look after so don’t expect me to be waiting on you hand and foot.”

John shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m not even sure what I’m doing here,” he finished with a short laugh.

“Why, you’re here for Sherlock, aren’t you? You are Dr. Watson, aren’t you?” Mrs. Hudson continued without waiting for John’s reply. “Oh, dear, I haven’t mistaken you for someone else have I?”

John shook his head. “Oh, no, of course not. I am John Watson.”

The smile returned to Mrs. Hudson’s face and she patted John’s arm companionably. “That’s good then, dear. If you’ll just come this way.”

John shook his head and followed Mrs. Hudson through the covert, keeping close to her as she moved along the human corridors. John barely listened to her prattle on as he counted the filled pavilions surprised that there were so few filled in such a prime location in the capital. Mrs. Hudson finally drew to a stop at the last, rather shabby pavilion at the end of the covert.

“Here we are then, Dr. Watson. You be sure and let me know if you or Sherlock need anything, though I’m not your housekeeper, mind.” Mrs. Hudson patted his hand again and left him in front of the pavilion. It was only a few minutes later that Sherlock’s deep voice rang out.

“Just come in already. Stop hovering on the doorstep.”

John just managed not to roll his eyes as he stepped inside. “There was a bit of a miscommunication, I think.”

“Yes, yes, I know, you don’t want a dragon. I don’t want a companion. That makes us perfect for each other.” Sherlock spoke absently as he fluttered about the pavilion, seeming to pay no mind to John as he reached for several books, flipping through each briefly before springing away to another pile of books or papers or hovering about with his iPad, scowling at whatever it was he was looking at.

“Exactly,” John said with a bit of relief. “So there’s no reason for me to be here and I’ll just be going.” 

John turned around but found his way blocked by a frowning Sherlock. “Nonsense. You have to stay.”

“I have to do no such thing,” John said with a huff of a laugh.

Sherlock huffed an angry sigh and curled on the floor between John and the exit. John almost laughed at him thinking that simply lying between John and the door would stop John from getting out.

“This is the best offer you’ll receive,” Sherlock began counting off on his talons. “You’re subsisting on a miniscule corps pension, you’re unable to serve as a surgeon either in the corps or in the civilian coverts, you’re unsuited for any other type of work.”

“Thanks for that,” John interrupted bitterly. 

Sherlock didn’t pause to acknowledge John’s remark. “This is the only logical course for you.”

“I don’t want a dragon,” John gestured angrily. “I’ve never had my name down on the lists and even if I had considered it I’m too old now. This is ridiculous.”

“We are in agreement because I do not want a handler,” Sherlock returned snidely. “That is what makes you so suitable. You are not alarmed at being in close proximity to dragons, you’ve medical knowledge I may find useful on occasion and since you’re not the least bit interested in being a handler you will not be constantly underfoot and keeping me from my business.”

John sighed and rubbed his hand over his brow. “I can’t believe you think you can just pick someone at random and tell them they’re to be your handler.”

“Not random at all,” Sherlock answered. “I assure you I did my research. And I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t want to be the handler to one of only three English Celestials in the world.”

John couldn’t deny that the idea of working so closely with an English Celestial didn’t start his heart racing, but he did his best not to let Sherlock know how he felt. John’s failure was evident in Sherlock’s smirk.

“At least consider the possibility,” Sherlock said in a slightly conciliatory tone.

John sighed. “Alright. You’re right.” John glared briefly at the smug expression on Sherlock’s face. “I’ve nothing else to do anyway.”

Sherlock lowered his head and closed his eyes to mere slits. “Your quarters are upstairs. Feel free to take a look around.”

John nodded. “Right. Thanks. I’ll do that.”

Sherlock rumbled his approval and stood to walk back to his somewhat less anxious search through whatever pile of knowledge caught his attention. John shook his head and wandered around the perimeter, careful to stay out of Sherlock’s path since it appeared Sherlock was paying him no attention at all, and found the human sized stairs at the back of the room leading to the handler’s quarters. They were small but comfortable, consisting of a setting room with a small kitchen attached, a decent sized bedroom and an adequate water closet. The furnishings were clearly used, but sturdy and not too difficult on the eyes. There was no dust, and John figured he’d have to buy Mrs. Hudson some flowers and chocolates to thank her for cleaning up the place before his arrival. 

John sank down onto the bed, resting his elbows on his thighs and cradling his head in his palms. This whole day had been surreal. John had thought he was through with dragons. Sherlock had been right, he was completely unsuited to any other profession. But he wasn’t exactly suited to living with dragons anymore either. His limp hadn’t bothered him the past week, but that didn’t mean he was capable of climbing over dragons or carrying the various paraphernalia that went along with kipping with a dragon. But he also hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of never working with dragons again. It had taken all he had not to walk by the various coverts scattered through the city. And John had felt a pang in his heart every time he had heard wingbeats overhead. 

John didn’t know how long he sat on the bed contemplating his choices, but the sound of voices drew him down to Sherlock’s part of the pavilion where he found Sherlock eyeing a grey middle weight who stared back at him with a hint of exasperation. A young black woman sat on the stairs, her chin propped in her hand. She looked up as John approached.

“Who’re you then?”

John barely kept a frown from his face and opened his mouth to answer before Sherlock spoke for him.

“He’s no one of importance.” Sherlock cocked his head at the grey dragon. “Do you want my help or not?”

The grey dragon sighed. “You know I do.”

“We don’t need him,” the woman put in.

“Sally, we’ve been over this,” the grey dragon responded.

Sally rolled her eyes and stood, walking to the grey dragon, trailing a hand over his flank. “We can do this without him. He’s not all that smart, you know. Not smarter than you at any rate.”

The grey dragon nudged Sally who barely managed to keep her feet and spoke to Sherlock again. “You’ll come then?”

Sherlock gestured toward the opening in the pavilion. “I’ll follow along.”

The grey dragon nodded, lifted Sally to her perch on his shoulders and leapt to the landing platform and into the sky without another word to Sherlock or another look at John.

Sherlock reared back on his hind legs, shaking his wings with glee. “It’s Christmas, John! I knew they would come to me for assistance.”

Sherlock settled back onto his feet and began turning in circles, obviously searching for something.

“Er, what is it that you do exactly? And who was the middle-weight?”

Sherlock spared John a brief, exasperated glance. “Lestrade, works with the Met. I assist them when they’re out of their depth, which is always.”

Sherlock released a satisfied grunt and pulled a platinum chain from behind a stack of papers. He fastened it around his neck and leapt to the landing platform where he paused and looked down at John who looked back at him. Sherlock leapt back down and lowered his head to study John with one dark eye.

“You’re a doctor.”

“Yes,” John answered a bit bemused.

“A dragon surgeon,” Sherlock continued.

John nodded, “Yes, I was.”

“Served in Afghanistan. Saw a lot of bloodshed and violence against men and dragons.”

John nodded again. “Yes.”

“Want to see some more?”

“Oh, God, yes,” John said quickly and Sherlock gave him a toothy grin before bellowing for Mrs. Hudson to bring a captain’s flying harness.

***

John wasn’t sure what he expected to find when he and Sherlock landed, but it certainly wasn’t a murder scene.

John scowled about at the men, women and dragons who surrounded the perimeter and staggered a moment as Sherlock set him down and stalked off without waiting for John to follow. John did follow, albeit slowly.

“Here, now, who’re you and where do you think you’re going?”

At the snide question Sherlock paused and turned to sneer at the man who had stopped John from following. 

“He’s my companion, Anderson. He’s allowed to come with me. I see your wife has been on another extended excursion leaving you to find companionship in less than ideal company,” Sherlock finished with a pointed look at Sally who stood between Sherlock and Lestrade, glaring at Sherlock.

Lestrade heaved a great sigh over Sherlock’s name. “D’you want to take a look at the scene or not?”

Sherlock stalked past Sally and Lestrade, pausing at the entrance of the warehouse, eyes darting around. Sally sidled up to John.

“You’re his handler, then, are you?”

“In a manner of speaking,” John replied absently.

Sally smirked. “He’s only taken you on because of the law, you know.”

John turned a condescending eye on Sally. “Yes, I know. I’ve no problem with that.”

Sally scowled. “He’ll ruin you, you know. He’s no good for anyone.”

John smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “We’ll have to wait and see about that, won’t we? Best be getting on.”

John turned and followed Sherlock who had finally stepped into the warehouse. 

“Watch where you step,” Sherlock said absently as he leapt into the high ceiling and hovered over the area, eyes eagerly scanning everything in sight. 

John paused next to Lestrade who watched Sherlock instead of studying the crime scene.

“What happened here?” John asked, taking in the blood and bodies. It was all he could do to keep his eyes on the scene. He had seen a lot of horrible things done during war, but never such a thing in supposedly civilized society.

“Haven’t been reading the papers lately?” Lestrade asked.

John shook his head.

Lestrade released a gusty sigh, earning a brief glare from Sherlock. “Third one so far. First time we thought it was clear cut; older dragon getting on in years with a young handler. Handler couldn’t bear the thought of living past his dragon...” Lestrade gestured absently at the scene. “The last two were different. Apparent it’s not a suicide, not with both so young. Don’t know what to make of it anymore.”

John shook his head. “Who would do such a thing?”

Lestrade shook his head. “No idea. Though there are plenty of folk who don’t like dragons much, they wouldn’t start something like this. Rather keep their distance.”

“Idiots,” Sherlock said tersely as he landed beside them. “They’ve no idea what dragons are like. I’ve seen everything I need to see here. Your people can do whatever it is they do.”  
And with that Sherlock stepped outside and took off into the night. John stared after him a moment before shaking his head and turning to Lestrade.

Lestrade shrugged. “Yeah, he’s always like that. He’s brilliant, but a bit of a prat.”

“A bit?” Sally put in snidely.

“Enough, Sally. See what you can see before I take a look.”

Sally glared but did as Lestrade said. Lestrade and John stepped aside as the human team walked in, taking pictures and making notes of the details they could see before the dragons went in and potentially destroyed evidence.

“Do you, ah, ask for his help often?” John asked.

Lestrade gave a toothy smile. “Whenever we need it. He can see more and with that hovering trick the Celestials have, it’s right handy to have them take a look at a scene before men and dragons muck up the evidence. He’s been keen to get in on this case since the first one.”

“Really? How can you tell?”

Lestrade gave John a brief look. “He likes to play his games. Doesn’t like to ask if he can help, but he does enjoy making it obvious he knows more than we do.”

John nodded and stepped back as Sally called Lestrade forward. He turned and walked back through the throng of dragons and handlers, carefully avoiding eye contact as the sorrow of the situation affected them all. He distantly noticed his limp was more pronounced but chose instead on figuring out where he was and how he was going to get home. He supposed his first top should be his bedsit, though the thought of returning there at all filled him with dread. He was only distantly aware of wingbeats before he found himself swept up and off the street.

John’s first instinct was to struggle, of course, but reason returned quickly and instead of trying to get away clung instead to the talons curled carefully around him, and just as carefully did not look down at the ground. John was no stranger to flying, of course, but he had always been secured with harness and had never had the chance to fly cradled in a dragon’s talons, though the captains of his acquaintance who had had the chance to fly in their dragon’s talons always remarked on the heady feeling of the experience. John supposed when you knew the dragon and trusted your safety to the dragon on a daily basis the experience created a different feeling from being swept off the street at random.

They didn’t fly long, only about ten minutes, but John was not familiar enough with London to have any idea where they were. Certainly not a covert, but someplace large enough for several dragons to land comfortably. John was released, stumbling slightly as the courier dragon set him down.

“Okay, what was that all about?”

The small dragon gave him a toothy grin and gestured at the clearing in front of them.

John sighed and walked further into the clearing. There were several large trees scattered about, but nothing to deter a dragon from landing anywhere in the field. There was another dragon, a heavy weight, standing in the shadows of several large trees.

John stopped several yards away from the dragon. “So.”

The dragon rumbled deep in his throat a moment before speaking. “What is your relationship with Sherlock?”

“I’m considering becoming his companion,” John answered shortly.

“Considering?” the dragon rumbled.

“Yes. What business is it of yours?”

“Everything about Sherlock is my business,” the dragon answered bluntly. “You haven’t decided yet?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Sherlock is my business,” the dragon returned shortly.

“But I am not your business,” John responded.

“Your association with Sherlock makes you my business.”

The fell silent for several moments. Then the heavy weight stepped into the dim light in the park. John just managed to keep from rolling his eyes as he quickly recognized another English Celestial.

“Sherlock’s brother, are you?” John asked, though he already knew the answer. 

The dragon’s eyes closed briefly in acknowledgement before he lowered his head to peer intently at John. “You are a very interesting choice for a companion, Dr. Watson.”

“In what way?”

The dragon smirked and sat up to gaze down at John. “A doctor, invalided out and unable to take a job in the civilian corps due to injuries. Nothing remarkable to you at all. And yet Sherlock chose you.”

John shrugged. “No accounting for taste, I guess.”

The dragon smiled. “Indeed. I wonder if you would assist me in maintaining his well-being.”

John frowned. “He seems able to take care of himself. Certainly doesn’t seem keen to have a companion.”

“Yes, well, without Grandfather to back him Sherlock has been forced to bow to the laws and choose a companion. “

“And where’s your companion?” John asked.

The dragon smirked and gestured to the side where a woman stood silently watching them both. “Anthea shares my concern about Sherlock, but defers to my judgment when it comes to dealing directly with him.”

John nodded at Anthea and turned his attention back to the dragon. “I’m still not sure what you want from me.”

The dragon rustled uncomfortably, his tail moving restlessly as it curled toward Anthea. 

“I would be willing… to pay you,” the dragon grit out, “If you were willing to pass on certain information about Sherlock.”

John swallowed a helpless giggle. “That must have been painful.” He shook his head. “I don’t want money. I’m not going to spy on Sherlock.”

The dragon sighed and lowered his head to John’s level again. “Why would my brother choose you? It makes no sense.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” John shrugged. “No idea what he was thinking. You’ll have to ask him.” John folded his hands behind his back and gazed serenely back at the dragon.   
The dragon sat up and motioned to the courier dragon that had taken up position across the clearing. “Murdoch will take you back. Do consider my offer, Dr. Watson. A military pension is hardly enough to outfit a dragon’s companion let alone a dragon of Sherlock’s standards.”

John resisted rolling his eyes and walked toward Murdoch. He heard Anthea murmuring to the dragon behind him but paid no attention to them. He approached Murdoch and stroked his forearm a moment before asking, “Will you let me hook on properly this time?”

Murdoch lowered his head, bashful suddenly, but continued to preen under John’s affection. “I am sorry about that. I had my orders.”

John patted his forearm and reached for the harness around Murdoch’s neck. “It’s alright. I understand about orders. You could have just asked, you know.” John paused and glanced at the dragon and Anthea who were staring across the clearing at them. “Or, I guess he could have asked.” John sighed and shook his head. “Would you mind taking me to get my kit before dropping me off at Baker Street Covert?”

Murdoch shook his head as he launched into the sky. “Not at all,” Murdoch chirped happily. John sat back and enjoyed the flight and the bubbly conversation from Murdoch and refused to think about Sherlock’s brother.

***

John didn’t know what to expect when he arrived back at Sherlock’s pavilion, but a dragon snared in chain and talon and flying gear wasn’t it.

“Get this off me,” Sherlock snarled as he managed to twist his head enough to face John.

John gaped a moment before rushing forward to see exactly how Sherlock was tangled up. “What… how on earth did you do this?” John asked as he tugged ineffectually at the straps of the harness where it was caught in the platinum chain around Sherlock’s neck. 

Sherlock only growled and refused to answer. John bit his lip to keep from grinning at the angry dragon and began to climb as far as he could onto Sherlock’s back, which wasn’t as far as he needed to reach, especially since Sherlock’s neck was twisted between harness and chain and Sherlock was trying to twist further to keep an eye on John.

“Alright,” John said grimly, sliding to the floor. “I’ll have to cut it off. Try not to move anymore.”

“I want this off,” Sherlock growled. 

John patted his forearm. “I can see you want it off. Just hold on. I’ll get you out.”

John allowed his grin to escape as he turned away in search of a pair of scissors. He dug through his kit until he found the heavy scissors he had used to cut harness off injured dragons in the service and turned back to find Sherlock had lowered his head to the floor and was staring sulkily at John. John couldn’t help but giggle at the expression, which only made Sherlock sulk more. John climbed back over Sherlock’s shoulder and set to work on the harness.

“You know, if you hadn’t flown off and left me at a murder site I could have taken this off you when we got back here,” John said sternly as he cut through the harness. Sherlock hissed and squirmed, nearly knocking John off. “Hold still!”

“That bloody hurts!”

“I’m sure it does, sorry,” John answered shortly as he continued to cut through the harness. “Your forearm is twisted up through it, though I’m not sure how something like that could have happened. Almost got it….”

Sherlock mumbled under his breath, but did his best to hold still as John cut through the harness. As soon as his forearm was free, Sherlock settled down to sulk and wait for John to finish. It took longer than John expected to cut Sherlock loose, especially when Sherlock kept inserting snide warnings about not scratching his chain. John rolled his eyes and considered the similarities between dragons, no matter what breed or where they were brought up.

“That’s got it,” John said when he finally got the last of the harness cut off.

Sherlock reared up and shook his head annoyingly, barely giving John enough time to step away.

“Finally,” Sherlock huffed. “I’m never wearing one of those again.”

John shook his head and began gathering pieces of harness. “You’re welcome.”

“What?” Sherlock asked absently, already pawing through a package nearby. “Yes, thank you, I’m sure.”

John rolled his eyes and bundled what remained of the harness to the side of the pavilion. Sherlock was hunched over gazing intently at whatever he had found after he flew away when John returned. 

“I met your brother, by the way,” John said absently as he settled into a chair near where Sherlock was studying what looked like travel harness.

Sherlock hummed and didn’t look up. “Did he offer you money to spy on me?”

John grinned. “Yes, he did.”

Sherlock looked at him. “Did you take it?”

John shook his head. “Of course not. It looked like it pained him to even offer.”

Sherlock huffed a laugh. “I’m sure it did. Pity. We could have split the proceeds. Look at this,” Sherlock gestured at some cloth near the harness.

John stood and stepped forward. “What is all this?”

“Evidence.”

John looked at Sherlock sharply. “You took this from the crime scene?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I took it from a skip ten blocks from the crime scene.”

John shook his head. “And what makes you think this is evidence?”

“Tedious,” Sherlock huffed but then set about enthusiastically explaining why this pile of harness and cloth was evidence. “Look, John,” Sherlock began, animated, and John couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward to watch and listen as Sherlock explained. “Here, traveling harness, wear and tear, a long journey, a frequent long journey, familiar to both dragon and companion and notice the cloth here, where it’s worn and the way it’s folded which indicates it was a shelter on a dragon transport, boat, not plane. A rarity these days, but there’s more than a hint of salt on the harness, only long term exposure would make leather smell that strongly of the sea. Obviously lived by the sea, but notice how the harness and cloth are worn and where there is more accumulation of salt water here and here where they rubbed against the dragon during a recent storm. No reason to tie a dragon down on land when there is shelter readily available and there was a squall in the North Atlantic last week. Arrived in London yesterday. Obviously they were taken to the warehouse by someone they didn’t know but that they trusted all the same. A dragon guide, usually assigned by the ministry but only on request. Probably a companion who’s lost his dragon or one who was on the list but never chosen. It’s only a matter of finding who was assigned to escort them through the city and we’ll find the murderer.”

Sherlock sat back and lowered his head to rest upon his forearms, gazing intently at the pile of cloth and harness in front of him.

John grinned at him. “Brilliant,” he breathed and couldn’t stop grinning at Sherlock.

Sherlock sat up and gazed down at John. “Really?” He glanced away then looked sideways at John. “It was fairly simple to deduce.”

“I’m not so sure that anyone else could have done that after only a few minutes with this mess,” John returned calmly, well used to the pride of dragons and their need for compliments.

Sherlock preened under the compliment and hummed low in his throat. “It is simply observation, anyone could do it if they put forth the effort.”

John laughed softly and rubbed a hand over Sherlock’s forearm. “Well, I didn’t see any of that. Well done, you.”

Sherlock hummed again narrowed his eyes in pleasure at John’s petting. John patted Sherlock’s forearm one last time before turning to the cut up harness.

“I’ll take this back to Mrs. Hudson. She might be able to get something done with it for a younger dragon perhaps.”

Sherlock didn’t reply and John left him to his musings. Mrs. Hudson was somewhat dismayed at the cut up harness but assured John that she could find some use for it eventually. It took very little convincing for John to accept Mrs. Hudson’s offer for tea and biscuits and gossip about Sherlock. John had been able to pick up on most of Sherlock’s past, but the knowledge that Sherlock was a grandson of the famous Temeraire wasn’t something John was expecting. There were a handful of English Celestials in the world, but only one direct line from Temeraire. Most came about with the acquisition of Hong Kong and the treaty that allowed breading with Imperials. The name English Celestial was an arrogant move on the part of British dragon breeders, but there was no fuss from the Chinese so long as they included the English addition to the name of the breed.

John wandered back to Sherlock’s pavilion wondering what he had gotten himself into. And wondering why Sherlock had chosen him. 

Raised voices coming from Sherlock’s pavilion had John quickening his pace as much as his leg would allow.

“ – doesn’t change the fact that he capered off with evidence!”

“Is there a problem here?” John asks as he stepped between Sally and Sherlock. 

Sherlock huffed angrily but settled back on his haunches, lifting his head from where it had been inches away from Sally. John was reasonably certain that Sherlock wouldn’t have attacked Sally, but John wasn’t at all certain that Sally wouldn’t have hit Sherlock.

Sally whirled around and laid a hand on Lestrade’s shoulder. “He should be arrested,” she spat but didn’t turn to look at John and Sherlock.

Sherlock huffed irritably and curled his tail around John. “Arrested for doing your job for you.”

John shook his head and turned to Lestrade. “Sherlock didn’t take evidence from the crime scene. He searched for it and brought it here.”

Lestrade nodded and gestured toward the harness and cloth and nudged Sally. “We’ll take it into custody and find the records for the victim’s escort.”

Sherlock lowered his head and closed his eyes to slits, gazing at Sally and Lestrade but refusing to acknowledge them beyond that.

John nodded and watched as Sally thrust the items into a canvas bag before hooking them to Lestrade’s harness. 

“He contaminated it you, realize. We won’t be able to use it for court,” Sally groused.

Sherlock growled but quieted when John put a hand on Sherlock’s leg.

“We’ll find the company and look through their records. We won’t need the harness and tent to get a conviction. It just helps us identify the victims,” Lestrade replied, exchanging a look with John and nodding at Sherlock. “I’ll be in touch, Sherlock.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and turned his head away as Sally clambered over Lestrade’s shoulder to hook onto the harness at his neck. John watched them leap to the landing platform and then into the night. Sherlock’s tail twitched irritably but he didn’t respond to John’s gentle petting as he clambered over Sherlock’s foreleg.

“Fancy a cuppa?” John asked as he made his way to the kitchen at the back of the pavilion. Sherlock didn’t answer but John sat the large kettle to boiling anyway. It was never easy to serve a dragon, but John had plenty of experience looking after dragons and it was certainly easier to just make Sherlock a cauldron of tea than to have him complain about it while John drank his own. 

Sherlock continued to sulk even after John placed the cauldron of tea in front of him. John ignored him and settled himself in a comfortable chair across from Sherlock, opening the paper and sipping his tea. John paid no attention to Sherlock’s grumbling but peeked over the edge of the newspaper when Sherlock suddenly leapt to the landing platform and then disappeared into the sky. John shook his head and wondered again what he had gotten himself into.

*****

The days passed quickly. Sherlock largely ignored John whenever they were in the pavilion together. John found himself assisting Mrs. Hudson more than he felt comfortable with, but found the small tasks she asked of him, remembering everything he couldn’t do anymore, causing him more discomfort than simply sitting in his bedsit had. He spent less time with Mrs. Hudson and more time in the pavilion, with or without Sherlock. 

Almost without either of them noticing, Sherlock and John began spending more time together. Sherlock often asked for John’s opinion or assistance with some of his experiments and often asked John to meet him at a crime scene or some other location where John’s presence would alleviate any problems Sherlock might have with human witnesses who still had an irrational fear of dragons. Sherlock often grumbled at the time he had to wait while John took a cab, but never offered to carry him and John refused to ask. Sherlock’s insistence that he would never wear a harness again was more than enough to convince him not to try.

But they slowly grew more comfortable with each other and spent more time together doing things that filled the emptiness in John’s life with hope that scared John more than the emptiness had. Sherlock seemed to enjoy when John read aloud to him, despite the caustic comments that sometimes peppered John’s recitation. Sherlock even seemed to enjoy ensuring John ate regularly, despite his own rather hit and miss attitude toward food. For a dragon, Sherlock had an appalling lack of appetite. John wondered sometimes how he managed to maintain his level of activity without the calories necessary for a heavy weight to maintain the level of activity that Sherlock did. But Sherlock never seemed to pause for food when in the middle of a case, though John cringed at the memory of the sheep and cows that Sherlock could put away with gusto after a case concluded.

They fought, of course. Sherlock refused to treat John as if he were a true companion and John refused to cave to most of Sherlock’s demands. John interacting with the other dragons in the covert and got along well with the other companions, who accepted John as an equal despite the odd relationship he had with Sherlock.

Sherlock, on the other hand, was driving John mad. He refused to carry John anywhere and yet displayed all of the jealous possessiveness dragons felt toward their companions. John just went about his business as often as he could and tried not to pander to Sherlock’s conflicting nature.

Of course, just as John thought he had found the right balance between Sherlock’s demands and keeping his distance, he went and got himself kidnapped.

In retrospect, John should have known this was going to happen. He wasn’t some wet behind the ear ensign on his first crew. And Sherlock, with his pedigree and lack of companion, would have attracted many admirers. But honestly, how was John to know that someone would want to try and take on the most annoying dragon in the kingdom? And not only want to take him on, but become so obsessed with becoming his companion that he would threaten Sherlock’s choice?

John remembered very little of the kidnapping itself. He was aware of being scooped up by a dragon and then a sharp prick in his thigh and maniacal laughing. His first thought when he came to was that he was heartily tired of being kidnapped by dragons. His second thought was that Sherlock wouldn’t miss him for hours or, more likely, days.

“Awake at last.”

John sighed and opened his eyes. Dark eyes stared back at him. “This is new.”

The dark eyed man grinned. “Expecting someone else, were you?”

“Yes, actually.”

The man frowned and John took stock of his situation. He was tied to a chair, the rope wound round and round his torso and his arms tied firmly to the arms of the chair. His legs were tied together and his feet tied to the legs of the chair. John turned his attention to the man who was pacing in a circle in front of him.

“You’re not at all what I expected. You're nothing at all.”

John frowned and felt his stomach fall as he realized he was dealing with someone on the verge of complete insanity. “What were you expecting?”

The man turned toward him as if surprised to find him still there. Then he grinned and stalked forward, bracing his hands over John’s arms and leaning forward. John grimaced at the pressure on his arms and the man’s grin grew. 

“Someone extraordinary. He deserves someone as extraordinary as he is.”

“You mean Sherlock?”

“Of course I mean Sherlock!”

John winced as the man shouted in his face. But then he stood and began pacing again. “He should never have chosen you. It’s caused so many problems.”

The man continued to rant and John let his attention wander and discovered another man standing in the corner, leaning casually against a middle weight dragon. The man and dragon stared intently at John, ignoring the man pacing between them and John wondered what the relationship between the three might be and was certain that the man and dragon were more dangerous than the crazy man.

The dark eyed man finally turned back to John and grinned and John reevaluated the danger level of the room’s occupants. 

“He’ll be here soon; we need to get you ready.”

Which is how John found himself walking toward Sherlock strapped in explosives. John was almost surprised to find Sherlock there, ruff laid back against his neck.

“John, what is this about?”

John shrugged open the jacket they had forced him into open and Sherlock’s eyes widened.

“Get that off,” he growled as he took one step forward.

“Now, now,” John grimaced at the voice in his ear as he repeated the words. “Don’t do anything hasty.”

Sherlock cocked his head and listened. “Come out and speak to me in person.”

The voice in John’s ear chuckled and then he heard a weird echo as the voice sounded in his ear and in the pavilion. “I should have expected you to hear me.” The man lifted a hand and waved his fingers in Sherlock’s direction. “Hi, Sherlock!”

Sherlock lowered his head and turned one eye on John. “Why did you do this?”

John was startled for a moment, thinking perhaps that Sherlock thought John had allowed himself to be caught on purpose, that he had a hand in it, but then he realized his mistake as Moriarty laughed and answered.

“Aw, now, don’t be dull. You know why.”

John glanced back at Moriarty as the laughter disappeared from his voice.

Sherlock lifted his head and sidled closer to John.

“Ah, now, keep your distance,” Moriarty crooned and lifted his hand, displaying the switch to the explosives strapped to John’s chest. “I’d hate to have to do something messy. But don’t worry, I made sure to use only enough explosives to kill the good doctor here. Though you would be injured and we should probably try to avoid that.”

Sherlock growled and continued to sidle closer to John. “Given your intelligence, you should have known I would never choose you for a companion.”

“You said you would never choose a companion!” 

John grimaced as Moriarty shouted, his voice echoing through the pavilion.

“And you know I had no choice,” Sherlock hissed.

Moriarty shook his head. “Sherlock, Sherlock. Then you should have chosen me!” Moriarty smiled at John. “No hard feelings, Dr. Watson. But I do have to kill you now.”

Sherlock darted forward and wrapped John in his hands.

“Do it,” Sherlock hissed. “Flip the switch. The explosion may not kill me but it would be strong enough to destroy my forelegs. “

Moriarty glared, though John could barely see anything more than the top of Moriarty’s head beyond Sherlock’s claws.

“Very well,” Moriarty sneered. He opened his hand, one finger holding the trigger. He disarmed the trigger and threw it into the pool outside the pavilion. Moriarty grinned and waved his fingers at Sherlock. “I’ll be seeing you.”

Sherlock growled low in his throat. John closed his eyes and leaned his head against Sherlock’s claw. He stumbled as Sherlock suddenly released him. 

“Get that off,” Sherlock snarled and John nodded and shrugged out of the coat, tugging at the straps holding the explosive vest together. Sherlock dug his claws into the floor of the pavilion, growling under his breath as he watched John strip off the vest. As soon as it was off of John, Sherlock scooped it up and threw it into the pool. John staggered a few steps toward the wall, but ran into Sherlock’s foreleg as Sherlock curled around John again. John slumped into the hollow of Sherlock’ s arms and lowered his head to his knees. 

Sherlock lowered his head and turned one eye on him. “Why did you go with him?”

John huffed a short laugh and looked up at Sherlock. “Do you honestly think I was given a choice?”

Sherlock snorted and closed his eyes. “You should have called me.”

John shook his head. “And when was I supposed to do that? After they tied me to a chair or after they strapped explosives to my chest?”

Sherlock sighed and didn’t answer. 

John laid a hand on Sherlock’s forearm. “I’m alright. Everything is alright.”

Sherlock sniffed and then growled low in his throat and lifted his head, his eyes narrowed.

“Sorry, I’m just so changeable.”

Moriarty walked back into the pavilion, accompanied by the middle weight and his companion. John watched as the middle weight began to posture, but then noticed Sherlock’s ruff quivering. He pressed his hands over his ears and crawled forward into Sherlock’s claw. Before John could take another breath, Sherlock had reared up, clutching John in his claw, and released the Divine Wind. 

John’s ears were ringing, but he was alright, and a bit more than relieved that Sherlock had scooped him up and taken off before the pavilion came down around them. He was less than pleased that Sherlock had paused just long enough to scoop up Moriarty. 

Sherlock didn’t fly far, and dropped Moriarty just before they landed so that Moriarty landed with a thump that John heard over the ringing in his ears. Sherlock kept John cradled close, though he let John stand instead of keeping him cradled in his claws.

“Let me check on him,” John said, well aware he was shouting, but unable to help himself. 

“No,” Sherlock growled and lowered his head to John’s level.

“You dropped him pretty hard. On pavement,” John protested. “After giving him a face full of the Divine Wind.”

Sherlock’s mouth widened into what could only be considered a satisfied grin.

John shook his head and subsided into silence, sitting down to rest against Sherlock’s foreleg as Sherlock curled around him, keeping one eye trained on Moriarty and allowing the other to study John. He didn’t know what Sherlock was waiting on, but figured it would be best just to wait him out. It was only a few minutes later that Mycroft and his companion were landing in the clearing.

“Really, Sherlock, was it necessary to release the Divine Wind in the middle of London?”

“Yes,” Sherlock growled without moving his attention from where Moriarty lay still.

Mycroft sighed. “There are better ways to disable an opponent. You could have --”

“He had John strapped to explosives.”

Mycroft fell silent at Sherlock’s statement. “I see,” he continued several minutes later. “Well then.”

“He’s still alive, but barely,” Anthea’s voice rang out in the clearing.

Sherlock’s head lifted and he curled his foreleg around John. “I’ll take care of that.”

Mycroft darted forward and placed himself between Sherlock and Moriarty. “You’ll do no such thing.”

“He threatened John,” Sherlock shouted.

John absently began patting Sherlock’s foreleg. “I’m fine, Sherlock. I’m right here and I’m alright.”

“He was going to kill you,” Sherlock breathed softly, lowering his head again to peer at John.

“I realize that. But I’m alright.” He patted Sherlock’s forehead. “I’m alright.”

“You almost weren’t,” Sherlock said in what for him was a soft voice, but still managed to ring through the clearing.

John smiled and leaned his head against Sherlock’s. “Don’t think about it anymore. It’s alright. I’m just fine.”

Sherlock sniffed and nuzzled against John, nearly knocking him over and surprising a short laugh out of John. Sherlock looked over at Mycroft and Anthea who were hovering over Moriarty and having some sort of silent communication. Sherlock glared at them before releasing a huff, scooping John up, and taking off again.

“Sherlock, you really don’t need to keep --”

“Hush, John,” Sherlock interrupted and continued flying. “They’ll be hovering over him for ages. I’d like to get home before dawn.”

John snorted in disbelief and made himself as comfortable as possible in the middle of a heavy weight dragon’s claws. It never failed to amaze John how fast Sherlock could fly. He was half unconscious when Sherlock had flown them out of the pavilion in the middle of London to the countryside, but now he realized how far they had flown when he realized that London was only a group of bright lights, growing larger and larger. The air slowly filled with other dragons, each giving Sherlock a wide berth, until they approached the covert where Sherlock’s pavilion was located. 

Sherlock landed gently on the landing platform and jumped down to the floor before setting his cupped claws on the floor. He hesitated a moment before opening his claws and allowing John to step down to the floor.

John stretched and scratched idly at his shoulders where the straps of the vest had cut into his muscles. Sherlock watched him intently, growling softly at John’s movements. John absently patted Sherlock’s foreleg before walking back toward the kitchen.

“Tea?” John didn’t wait for an answer before starting the kettles boiling. John turned to fetch the tea and found Sherlock hovering nearby, his gaze steady on John. John shook his head and prepared Sherlock’s cauldron and his own cuppa. Instead of letting John carry it out to the pavilion for him, Sherlock reached in and grasped it in one claw and waited until John had settled into his chair before settling down with his own tea. “Well? Go ahead.”

Sherlock cocked his head to the side and stared at John. “What is it you expect me to do?”

John snorted and shook his head. “What you always do. Go ahead and dazzle me with your brilliance.” To John’s surprise, Sherlock sheepishly looked away and turned his attention to his tea. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock shook his head. “I did nothing, John. My arrogance almost got you killed.”

“What?” John asked. “Why would you say that?”

Sherlock sighed and turned his attention back to John. “I’ve known Moriarty for several years. He was always hanging about the covert, willing to run errands, make tea, anything I asked, really.”

“Bit like your errand boy, bit like me, is that what you’re saying?” John asked, cursing the bit of bitterness easing into his voice.

“Nothing like you,” Sherlock said hoarsely. “You are nothing alike.”

John took a sip of tea and waited for Sherlock to continue. It was several minutes before he did.

“Moriarty was brilliant, perceptive. He could read people and their desires as easily as I can read a crime scene.” Sherlock paused a moment, “he could read me. He knew what I wanted. Or rather, what I didn’t want. I never wanted a companion,” Sherlock sneered the word. “Never. I didn’t need one. I didn’t need anything that they tried to force on me. But the damn law is still in effect and I was reminded that I had already pushed the law to the limits. And it was only because of grandfather that I was able to get away without a companion for as long as I have.” Sherlock paused again and took a sip of his tea. “Moriarty knew that I didn’t want a companion. Certainly not a traditional companion who would expect to place me in harness and use me as common transportation,” Sherlock finished harshly and John flinched at the invective in the sentence. Before he could marshal an argument, Sherlock continued. “He planted the idea in my head. He suggested finding a companion who didn’t care to be a companion. Someone who would live here and give every impression of acting as a companion but who would let me go my own way.” Sherlock turned his stare on John. “He was thinking of himself, of course.”

John nodded. “Of course. And when you chose me?”

Sherlock shook his head and gave his own version of a shrug. “He disappeared. I didn’t care.” Sherlock looked away. “I should have. I put you in danger.”

John shook his head. “No. Nope. Not your fault. None of this.” John sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Moriarty is unhinged, clearly. Obsessed with you. He would have attacked anyone you had chosen.”

“And yet I chose you,” Sherlock responded softly.

John nodded and considered Sherlock who was studiously avoiding looking at John. “Why did you choose me?”

Sherlock ducked his head and for a moment John was certain he wouldn’t answer. But then Sherlock looked over at John. “You’re a doctor. I thought you would be useful.”  
John gave him a rueful smile. “Sets me apart from Moriarty, doesn’t it.”

Sherlock reared up and fixed John with an angry stare. “I have told you, you are nothing like Moriarty!” Sherlock ducked closer to John, wrapping himself around John as much as he could. “Moriarty only wanted to be close to me for the prestige of being near a Celestial. He cared nothing about me or anyone else! Only himself! John, you….” Sherlock fell silent and studied John intently. “You help me see things more clearly. You help me think. You’re like an island of calm in a stormy ocean.”

John sucked in a deep breath and Sherlock turned away, embarrassed. 

“Sherlock, you --” John began only to have Sherlock interrupt him and turn toward the landing platform.

“Never mind, John. Forget I said anything.”

John surged to his feet and followed Sherlock. “Sherlock, no, you can’t just take off after ….”

Sherlock ignored John, leapt to the platform and took off into the rising sun. John shook his head and sighed and turned to put the tea cups away. He briefly considered a shower, but decided he was just too exhausted and went straight up to bed.

He woke late that afternoon and wondered briefly if Sherlock had returned at all but then decided it would be perfectly normal if Sherlock hadn’t returned and why shouldn’t things be normal. He shook his head and headed off to shower.

He was surprised, though he shouldn’t have been, to find Mycroft lounging about the pavilion when he finally made his way downstairs. John sighed and ignored him, making his way back to the kitchen. He prepared himself a cup of tea, not bothering to ask Mycroft or to prepare a cup for him, and settled himself into his chair to study the dragon.

“I’m surprised that Sherlock has let you out of his sight,” Mycroft said to finally break the silence. 

John frowned. “Why’s that?”

Mycroft gave him what John was sure was meant to be an amused expression. “Really, John, after all this time you actually need to ask that question?”

John just managed not to glare at Mycroft and shrugged his shoulders instead. “Just chalk it up to my normal, below average human brain.”

“You are hardly below average, John,” Mycroft murmured.

John frowned at what was probably considered a compliment, considering the source, but Mycroft continued before he had a chance to respond.

“Surely you’ve noticed the,” Mycroft paused and John could swear Mycroft would rather bite his own tongue off than say what he said next, “typical possessive nature of a dragon toward their companion.”

John shrugged and refused to answer.

Mycroft huffed a sigh and gave John a chiding look. “Really, John, after all this time you still fail to notice the most obvious things.”

John lifted an eyebrow and sipped at his tea.

“In any case, John, you should be relieved to learn that Moriarty is in a coma and it is unlikely that he will recover. Aside from direct exposure to the Divine Wind, Sherlock managed to drop him from a great height. The dragon and companion found at the scene are both dead from Sherlock’s Divine Wind and the resulting aftermath.” Mycroft shook his head before he continued. “It is unfortunate that they did not survive. I would have liked to have questioned them.”

“Yes, it’s unfortunate that the ones who tried to blow me up are dead,” John remarked dryly.

“Really, John,” Mycroft rebuked gently. 

John shrugged. “I hope I’m not keeping you from something.”

“Not at all,” Mycroft protested and curled himself comfortably on the warm floor. “A cauldron of tea would be lovely as well.”

John stared for a moment before standing and walking into the kitchen to make his unwelcome guest a cauldron of tea. They sat in silence, John staring at Mycroft and wondering what the hell was going on while Mycroft stared back calmly with no indication he was thinking about anything at all. John wasn’t sure how long they sat there staring at each other, too long for John at any rate. Eventually Sherlock returned, carrying a package that he set aside before turning to glare at Mycroft.

If dragons could smirk, then Mycroft was definitely smirking. Sherlock growled at him.

“You can leave, now, Mycroft.”

“Of course, Sherlock.” Mycroft leapt to the landing platform and turned back to John. “Do think about what I said, Dr. Watson.” Mycroft took off.

Sherlock turned to John. “What did he say?”

John shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Where did you go off to?”

“Irrelevant,” Sherlock returned quickly. Sherlock huffed a sigh. “John,” Sherlock began before falling silent again.

John shook his head and stood quickly. “Tea?” John didn’t wait for Sherlock’s answer before he made his way to the kitchen. Sherlock was eyeing John warily when he returned carting a cauldron of tea for him. John ignored him and settled back into his chair. Sherlock continued to sulk and John continued to ignore him and read the paper.

“John,” Sherlock said softly after nearly half an hour.

“What is it, Sherlock?” John asked without turning his attention from the paper.

Sherlock heaved a tremendous sigh. “John, I may have misrepresented what I expected of this relationship.”

John lowered the paper. “Really? What made you change your mind?”

Sherlock growled low in his throat, lowering his head and glaring at John. “Tedious,” he grumbled.

John smiled, folded the paper and turned all his attention to Sherlock. “I need this to be clear, Sherlock. I came into this relationship with certain expectations which you blew away on the first day. And now you admit it’s not what you wanted. Speak clearly and don’t expect me to simply understand what you mean even though you don’t say anything.”

Sherlock growled again. “Tedious, John.”

“I don’t care, Sherlock,” John said clearly. “Tell me exactly.”

Instead of answering, Sherlock shoved the package he had carried in earlier toward John. 

John rolled his eyes. “Sherlock,” John said warningly.

“Just open it,” Sherlock huffed and lowered his head to the floor, eyes fixed firmly on John.

John sighed angrily and began unwrapping the package. He paused as he opened the box and caught a glimpse of fine leather bundled inside. He glanced at Sherlock, who stared back calmly, before tugging a bit of the leather straps out. “What is this Sherlock?”

Sherlock extended a talon and tugged more of the leather out of the box. “Obvious, John. It’s harness.”

John glared at Sherlock and ran a hand over the leather straps. “I realize it’s harness, Sherlock. What does it mean?”

Sherlock nudged at John and curled a forearm around him and the box. “Again, obvious, John. It’s our harness.”

John let the harness fall back into the box and settled against Sherlock’s forearm. Sherlock lowered his head to the floor and peered at John. 

“I thought you didn’t want to be put in harness. Never again, you said.”

Sherlock sniffed. “I know what I said. The situation has changed.”

John stroked Sherlock’s cheek for a moment. “If this is reaction to my kidnapping, you don’t need to go to this extreme. I doubt it will happen again.”

Sherlock huffed. “It’s not just about Moriarty. I grow weary of having to wait for you to arrive at crime scenes.”

John chuckled briefly. “Cabs have to deal with traffic. Other dragons tend to give you a wide berth.”

Sherlock grinned. “That does come in handy.” He nudged his head against John and John obliged by rubbing Sherlock’s neck. “I never wanted a companion. I find most people and most other dragons tedious at best. I didn’t want someone constantly underfoot, telling me what to do and trying to direct me where they thought I should be.”

“Sherlock,” John sighed but Sherlock tightened his forearms around John briefly and John fell silent.

“I’ve seen dragons become besotted with their companions and determined never to become such a weak dragon. I didn’t need, nor did I want someone to alter my focus.”

“I’ve never wanted that, Sherlock.”

“I know, John,” Sherlock said softly. “You are truly remarkable. And I… I find it difficult to be without you now. I’m not looking forward to the harness, but I desperately want you with me more than you have been.”

John smiled. “If you stay calm and let me help you the harness won’t be a problem. And you certainly won’t wear it constantly, only when you need me with you.”

Sherlock hummed low in his throat and closed his eyes in pleasure as John continued to pet him. “You’re unlike any other human I’ve ever known, John. I was very lucky when I chose you.”

John giggled briefly. “You were right about us being a good match.”

Sherlock tightened his forearm around John briefly. “You are remarkable, John.”

“Thank you, Sherlock.” John remarked. “I never wanted to be a companion, but I am very glad to have been chosen by you.”

The fell silent, Sherlock curled around John as much as possible and John petting him occasionally while Sherlock seemed to doze at times. John wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Sherlock’s eyes opened wide and he sat up, leaving John to stumble to his feet as the forearm he was leaning against suddenly disappeared.

“What is it?” John asked, stretching and rubbing at his eyes.

“Lestrade,” Sherlock answered shortly. He shot a toothy grin at John. “Feel like trying to get me into my harness?”

John returned the grin. “Be a good idea to give it a test run.”

Sherlock smiled and nudged the box filled with harness in John’s direction. “I had it made with the idea that you wouldn’t need help to get me in and out of it.”

John laughed. “I’m sure we can figure it out.” John began tugging the harness out of the box as Lestrade landed and hopped down to speak to Sherlock. John listened with half an ear as he began laying the harness out. He shook his head in wonder as Lestrade took off again and Sherlock turned to John expectantly. He was too old to be chosen as companion and he had certainly never wanted this, but as he began tugging the harness over Sherlock he couldn’t imagine spending his life with anyone else.


End file.
